Noir
by Ultra-Geek
Summary: AU. PI Arthur Pendragon is the best in the business. He has never crossed a case he couldn't solve. But with someone attacking sorcerers and a new assistant who's keeping too many secrets, he may just have bitten off more than he can chew this time.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Noir  
>Author: Ultra-Geek<br>Rating: T  
>Disclaimer: I own nothing.<br>Summary: AU. PI Arthur Pendragon is the best in the business. He has never crossed a case he couldn't solve. But with someone attacking sorcerers and a new assistant who's keeping too many secrets, he may just have bitten off more than he can chew this time.  
>AN – Remember when I said I wasn't going to be writing any multi-chaptered fics? I, um, I hate to say that I lied, but, rather, it was more a lack of telling the truth. But this is an AU, so it doesn't really matter what canon says! This is my first stab at AU as well, so any criticism is welcome. Updates will be sporadic at best, but I'm aiming for every Thursday-ish. May be slightly more or slightly less frequent.<p>

Also, I know there's basically no Merlin in this chapter, but trust me – he'll be in it more down the road.

HOW 'BOUT THAT SERIES PREMIERE? I think the writers found the fanfiction and are using it against us, I swear...

ON WITH THE FIC.

* * *

><p>Arthur Pendragon was having a bad day.<p>

And not even the usual sort of bad day. Not the sort where the coffee maker was broken and an alarm didn't go off. Not the sort where he got to the coffee shop on the way to work only to discover that he'd left his wallet at home. Not the sort where he went back to get his wallet just to discover that he'd had his wallet all along, and now was late, and was probably never going to hear the end of it sort of bad day.

Arthur was having the sort of bad day where he was almost blown up. Again. Not that he'd ever care to admit it.

This time, at least, it wasn't personal. Not like on the Simpson case. Arthur sometimes got the shivers just thinking about that one. The smell of gasoline still made him nervous, something Gwaine had picked up on and exploited _completely_. That was alright, though, because Arthur knew about Gwaine's deathly fear of spiders and had taken advantage of that more than once. Everything had escalated to a point where Gwen had stepped in, made Gwaine step away from the tank of gas in his hand and Arthur drop the rubber spider, and everyone moved on.

Anyway.

This time, Arthur was having a bad day because he'd been hired by a woman named Catrina to track her husband, Jonas. She thought he was cheating on her. He was, and things got a bit muddled, but it somehow ended with Catrina brandishing a firework and screaming before shooting it off at her adulterous husband. Who Arthur had happened to be standing next to at the time.

Thus the almost being blown up bit.

So it was that it was barely ten in the morning, and Arthur was already singed and covered with soot and in desperate need of new clothing. He staggered up the stairs to his office.

Camelot Private Detection Agency was up on the second floor of a building on the dodgy side of town. When Arthur and Gwaine had first set up shop, they got the usual sort of cases – cheating and untrusting spouses, stolen bikes, the usual. But soon they built a reputation. They'd even worked that international case, once. Camelot had even been featured in Newsweek and was known in the area as a force to be reckoned with.

They'd even been offered a television contract. Gwaine had actually been salivating at the offer, but Arthur turned it down. Gwaine had been surly and cranky for three days afterwards, but then got over it. Arthur sometimes thought he'd actually forgotten about it.

He paused at the door, wondering if it was too late to slink away and then call in sick. He could see Gwen's silhouette on the other side of the frosted glass of the door, moving around near her desk. What if she was wearing the red dress, today? Arthur always enjoyed when Gwen wore the red dress. Not that he'd ever admit it.

It was that thought that gave him the courage to open the door and walk in.

Gwen wasn't wearing the red dress. She was in a simple pair of black pants and a green top. Arthur still thought that she looked lovely, even if he'd deny it later. The secretary in question looked up as soon as he opened the door. He wondered if she'd throw herself at him, state that he was in, and offer to look after him and make him feel like a hero and not like an idiot who'd had a firework shot at his face.

She didn't do any of those things, which made sense seeing as she was Gwen and not a swooning movie heroine. In fact, the only expression to really cross her face seemed to be exasperation. "Oh, Arthur," sighed Gwen, "Did someone try and blow you up again?"

"I hardly think that the again is necessary," Arthur said. He tugged at his cuffs slightly.

"This is getting ridiculous," she said, "You really need to stop having this happen."

"For the love of –" Arthur cut off, running his hand through his hair, and then said, "It was only three times!"

"Four," called Gwaine from his office. A moment later he came rolling out on his office chair. He took one look at Arthur and said, "Five, by the state of you. Who's tried to explode you this time, Princess? Was it the wife or the husband?"

"Wife."

"With?"

"A firework," said Arthur, and then remembered Gwaine's previous estimation on the amount of explosions he'd been the target of, "And, Gwaine, for the record it was only three times. And this time doesn't count, because she was quite clearly aiming for her husband."

"Four, then. Not three."

"No, three," said Arthur. He looked at his reflection in the mirror they kept in one corner of the room. His face was covered with sooty ash. His hair was sticking up in all directions. His white button down was dirty and smudged, ripped down one side. He huffed, and stubbornly told himself that he did not look like a man who had almost been blasted to pieces. "The warehouse on the Simpson case, the refrigerator, and the pipe bomb. Three. Clearly."

"You're forgetting about last Easter," Gwaine pointed out.

"Last Easter was not aimed directly at me," said Arthur, turning on the sink with a vengeance, "Last Easter was an accidental gas leak that almost got you blown up as well. Last Easter doesn't count. Three times."

"The point is that there are a startling number of incidences where there is you, fire, and almost death involved," said Gwaine, "People like to blow you up."

"They do not," said Arthur.

"Fine," said Gwaine, rolling his eyes, "But explosions do tend to follow you about."

"It's only a coincidence."

"If that's true," said Gwaine, "Then why does our lovely Guinevere keep an Arthur Almost Got Blown Up kit behind her desk?"

"Gwen doesn't keep one of those," said Arthur, scrubbing at his face. "You're being ridiculous."

There was an awkward quiet. Arthur got a creeping sensation on the back of his neck. He turned and looked back out into their lobby. Gwaine looked like he was about to explode from glee, a large and toothy grin spread across his face. Gwen was frozen, standing behind her desk, her back to Arthur. The way her arms were bent, the way she was holding herself, made it clear that she was holding something.

"Gwen," said Arthur, low and a bit growling, "Turn around."

"I, um," she said, "I'd really rather not, thanks."

"Turn. Around."

"Er –"

"_Guinevere_."

"Oh, fine," said Gwen, and she turned around. Clutched to her waist was a shoebox, with the words _Arthur Almost Got Blown Up_ written in Gwen's neat and precise penmanship. She was blushing heavily, and had one hand in the box, searching around for something. She held up a bottle of pills and said, "Would you like a Tylenol?"

Arthur stomped across the room, snatched the bottle out of Gwen's hand. "Thank you," he said through gritted teeth, and stomped back to the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind him. He could hear Gwen's barely stifled giggles and Gwaine's raucous laughter spilling through the door. He continued his valiant efforts at washing his face.

Arthur eventually gave up trying to clean himself using nothing but tap water and hand soap. He marched back out and went up to Gwen. She looked up at him, blinking. "Guinevere," he said, "I would very much appreciate if you would lend me the use of your…kit."

Hiding a smile, she pulled the shoebox out once more and handed it to him. From Gwaine's office, the sound of his laughter filtered out. Arthur took the box from Gwen, their fingers brushing. She blushed and pulled her hand away, looking down and mumbling an apology.

"Thank you," said Arthur, ignoring the way that her hair caught the sunlight. No. Because he was _not_ attracted to his secretary. Not in the slightest.

"You're welcome," she said, grinning slightly, "Do try and be careful, Arthur. Someday the almost might not be there and you will get blown up."

Had it been anyone else saying it, Arthur may have been annoyed. Seeing as it was Gwen, however, he merely plastered on a smile and walked into his office with the box. He refused to think about how that shirt Gwen was wearing hugged her in all the right places. He refused to be _that guy_, the one who fancied the secretary and spent months wallowing about it and wondering if he'd ever be able to make a move, because, damn it, he'd been shot at and almost blown up three (not four and not five) times and should be brave enough to ask a woman on a date and – no. No, he was not thinking about this, because it was not an issue.

Arthur went over to his file cabinet and opened the bottom drawer. He always, always, kept an extra set of clothes at the office, especially after last Easter. He stripped off his shirt and walked over to poke through the Arthur Almost Got Blown Up kit, and noticed for the first time that, in Gwaine's unmistakable scrawl, beneath the rest of the words was the word _Again._ That hadn't been there the first time that he'd seen Gwen's kit_._ He sighed, and found the pack of wet wipes at the bottom of the box.

Once he was somewhat clean and in his extra clothes, he spent a minute pawing at his hair, using his black mobile screen as a mirror. Finally, declaring it a lost cause, he settled behind his desk, cracked his neck, and picked up a pen. He had paperwork to do.

A moment later, Gwaine had managed to get Arthur's door open and was flicking paper triangles at his head while Gwen studiously looked unamused.

It was a slow week.

Arthur hated slow weeks.

It was the slow weeks where he cursed his past self for quitting the force.

It was a snap decision that had been building for a long time, quitting like that. All of the Pendragons were involved, somehow, with the law. Arthur's father, Uther, was the police commissioner. His mother, before she died, had been the District Attorney of Albion. Arthur's half-sister, Morgana was a lawyer with a reputation for ruthlessness and winning cases. Arthur, who would've killed himself had he worked a desk job, attended the police academy. He graduated top of his class. By the time that he was twenty-five he had made detective. His father couldn't have been prouder.

That changed when Arthur abandoned the force. Arthur only spoke with the man on jobs now, really. Or through Morgana, on the rare event that Uther and she were actually communicating. Uther couldn't – wouldn't – understand why Arthur had left. But after that case…Arthur couldn't deal with official police work anymore.

He stared at his mobile mournfully. Maybe Lance would call, soon, hire the agency as a police consultant.

The phone didn't ring.

Another paper triangle bounced off of Arthur's forehead.

Right as Arthur was starting to plan his retaliation, he heard the phone ring out front and Gwen's pleasant voice say, "Camelot Private Detection Agency, this is Gwen. What can we do for you today?" There was a pause, and then, "One moment, please. I'll transfer you."

The phone on Arthur's desk rang once and he pounced on it. "Arthur Pendragon," he said.

"Arthur!" came Lance's voice, "How are you doing?"

"I'm wonderful," said Arthur, stretching his legs, "How about you? Still slaving away at the station?"

Lancelot laughed. It was a running joke, Arthur and Gwaine trying to poach Lance for their own agency. Well. Lance thought that it was a joke, but Gwaine and Arthur were perfectly serious. Or Arthur was serious. Gwaine was doing his best. Lancelot continued, "Where else would I be?"

"You could be here," said Arthur.

"Ah, but Percival would miss me," said Lancelot, "He's rubbish on his own, you know."

Percival was Lancelot's partner on the force. "Bring him with you, then," said Arthur. And then, as another paper triangle went whizzing past his head, added, "Better yet, we'll send Gwaine back to the force and Percival can take his place."

Lance snorted, "Like we'd take Gwaine back."

"If only," said Arthur. "Is there any particular reason that you've called?"

"Yes, actually," said Lance, his voice slipping into his business tone. "We've got a body we'd like you to take a look at. If you aren't too busy."

"I'm on my way," Arthur said, "Send me the location?"

"Morgue, actually," said Lance, "And I don't think that I'm going to be able to make it over. Just tell Gaius you need to see the one with the spirals."

"Spirals?"

"Spirals."

"Right, then," said Arthur, "See you soon."

He hung up, and walked out of his office. "How's Lance?" Gwen asked, filing her fingernails behind her desk.

"Fine," said Arthur, maybe a little shortly. That was how he had met Gwen originally, after all – she had been Lance's girlfriend. She had also been friends with Morgana, but Arthur hadn't met her until Lance had introduced them. Not that Arthur cared about that. Not at all. Just like he hadn't taken note of when they'd broken up, no sir, not one bit.

"Does he have a case for you?"

"Yes," said Arthur, "But don't tell Gwaine. He has other things he needs to be doing."

"Hey!" Gwaine squawked from his office.

Arthur snorted, and walked back out the door and down the stairs.

* * *

><p>"Arthur!" Gaius said as Arthur walked through the door, "I haven't seen you in a while."<p>

"Haven't had cases that involve your line of work, for a while," said Arthur, shaking Gaius's hand in greeting. Gaius, the police medical examiner and mortician, was an old man with long, grey hair and spectacles that permanently sat on his nose. He also had an eyebrow that had been known to reach orbit in its ability to rise upwards on Gaius's forehead. He had looked the same for as long as Arthur could remember.

"What brings you here today?" Gaius asked.

"Lance has a body," said Arthur, "He said something about spirals?"

"Ah, yes, it is quite strange," said Gaius, "If you'd come this way, please."

He pulled out a ring of keys and unlocked the door that led to where the bodies were kept. Arthur followed along.

"Now, let me see here," said Gaius, looking at the wall of drawers. "Ah! Yes, this one."

He pulled out the slab that the body was laid on. Gaius pulled off the sheet that was covering it. The man was tall, dark skinned. There were dark markings that looked more like some sort of writing than swirls covering his torso and arms. "What are those?" Arthur asked, gesturing at the marks.

"Runes of some kind, though none that I know of," said Gaius, "I have some books I could lend you."

"That would be excellent Gaius, thank you," said Arthur, "What do we know about him?"

"His name is Christopher Aglain," said Gaius, "He's forty-nine. Cause of death seems to be suffocation, but the burns –" Gaius gestured at the black runes that covered the man's body, "Are quite serious. If the lack of air hadn't killed him, these may have. He was reported missing six days ago, but he hasn't been dead any more than three."

"Any signs of a struggle?" Arthur asked.

"Some," said Gaius, "The skin on his wrists and ankles, as you can see, shows signs that he was bound and struggled to get away, quite fiercely, I should think."

"Did someone come and identify him?" Arthur asked, "Is that how you knew his name?"

"No," said Gaius, and pointed to a blue tattoo on the man's shoulder that Arthur had originally thought to be another burn, "This is a symbol commonly used by the gang who refers to themselves as the Druids. I ran his picture through the registry on a whim."

"Sorcerer?" Arthur said. Magic users weren't rare, per se, but they tended to keep to themselves. They were all required to identify themselves, of course, for safety reasons. All of those names were listed in the registry, and were open for the public to view. Arthur knew for a fact that Gaius's name was there, though the old man hadn't practiced actively for years. At least, that's what he claimed. Arthur sometimes had his doubts.

"Yes," said Gaius, "I don't know if it's important or not, but –"

"No, anything could be important," said Arthur. "I think that's all I need for now, Gaius, thank you. Call me if you find anything else, would you?"

"Yes. Oh, while I have you here, I've been meaning to ask you," said the medical examiner, rolling and closing the drawer, following Arthur out to the door of the morgue. "My godson has just moved to town and is looking for a job. I remember you mentioning that you were in need of a second assistant so that Guinevere could have some extra time off?"

"Hm?" Arthur said, "Oh. Right. Yes, well, send him over whenever, or have him call."

"Thank you. I really do appreciate this, Arthur."

"I'm not making any promises," said Arthur, because he rather liked having Gwen there day in and day out. "But I'll be happy to talk to him."

Gaius waved a hand. "He's a good boy. You two will get along splendidly, I think."

Arthur nodded and waved as he walked out the door. His car still smelt vaguely of gunpowder from that morning. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his mobile and dialed.

"You've reached Detective Lancelot du Lac," came Lancelot's recorded voicemail, "I'm away from my desk right now, but if you leave your name, number, and reason for calling, I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

After the beep, Arthur said, "Lance, Arthur. I took a look at the body, but I'm not sure about it. I'll get back to you –"

Someone wrenched up the phone, and said, "Arthur?"

"Oh, Percival," said Arthur, "Hello. I was just calling about that body Lance wanted me to –"

"Yes, yes, whatever," said Percival, "Did you really almost get blown up again this morning?"

Arthur hung up the phone without another word. He seethed the entire way back to the office, stormed up the stairs and threw open the door. "I'll be in my office," he said to Gwen, not even looking at her. He didn't notice the fact that there was someone sitting in one of the lobby chairs. He slammed his office door shut behind him.

"Mr. Pendragon," Gwen said, knocking on his door. Arthur straightened immediately in his chair. Gwen only knocked and called him _Mr. Pendragon_ when there was a client in the offices.

"Yes?" he called back, patting down his hair.

"There's someone here to see you," she said, opening the door slightly, "He says that Gaius sent him over?"

Oh. Right. The godson.

Damn, but that old man moved quickly for someone his age.

"Oh, um," said Arthur, "Send him in, I suppose."

Gaius's godson was tall, lanky, and had ears that seemed to stick out for miles. He had dark hair that was messy and looked like it was in desperate need of a cut. He didn't look much older than nineteen. "Hello," he said, sticking out a hand towards Arthur, "My name's Merlin Emrys. Gaius sent me?"

Arthur shook Merlin's hand, and sat, gesturing for Merlin to do the same. He'd talk to him for a while and send him on his way. Gaius would be pleased, Arthur would have not shirked on his promise, and Merlin would be free to search for work elsewhere. Except, it turned out, Merlin had been speaking with Gwen and Gwaine before Arthur had arrived, because five minutes into their talk Gwaine came marching in.

"Gwen and I have decided," he said, clapping Merlin on the shoulder, "And we are keeping him."

"My door was closed for a reason, Gwaine," said Arthur, rubbing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, Gwen was hovering behind Gwaine, looking a little nervous but determined.

"And now it's open for a reason," said Gwaine, and then frowned down at Gaius's godson. "What was your name again?"

The skinny man looked like he was uncomfortable with all of the attention that was suddenly being focused on him. "Merlin," he said.

"We'd really like it if we hired him, Arthur," said Gwen, "I would really appreciate the help."

And it was not because of that sentence, not at all, that Arthur agreed to hire Merlin Emrys. Not even in the slightest.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Noir  
>Author: Ultra-Geek<br>Rating: T  
>Disclaimer: I own nothing.<br>Summary: AU. PI Arthur Pendragon is the best in the business – he has never found a case he couldn't solve. But with someone attacking sorcerers and a new assistant who's keeping too many secrets, he may just have bitten off more than he can chew this time.  
>AN – So…I'm fairly certain The Wicked Day killed me. It's the next day, and I still don't know what my emotions want from me. NEXT. Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I tried to respond to all of them, but I don't think I got 'em all. Sorry if I missed you! Also, uber-thanks to all of the people who mentioned that they normally don't read AU's – I really appreciate you giving mine half a chance! NEXT NEXT. This was early, so I'll have the next chapter up by next Sunday.<p>

ON WITH THE FIC.

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><p>Gaius had said that Arthur and Merlin would get along splendidly.<p>

Gaius had been _wrong_.

In fact, Gaius had been so wrong that Arthur was willing to go as far as to say that he had never gotten along with anyone less splendidly in his entire life. And that was including Morgana. And the client who put a time bomb in his refrigerator last December. The worst part was that Arthur couldn't even quite figure out what it was that bothered him so much about Merlin.

There were things that Merlin did that pissed Arthur off. He was clumsy and knocked things over and tripped over everything. He was constantly smiling – constantly. Even when there was nothing to be smiling about, Merlin had the dopey grin slapped across his face. He was late all of the three days he had worked at Camelot, coming running in the door panting and disheveled. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he'd say, and then would launch into the silliest, most elaborate excuses that Arthur had ever heard, and Gwaine and Gwen would hang on every word. And then, _then_, if those things weren't bad enough, he talked back like no one's business.

"Get me some tea, Merlin," Arthur said, on the second day, shuffling through some papers on his desk.

"Get it yourself," Merlin answered, frowning at the phone like it had personally wronged him, "I'm busy."

"Merlin," Arthur said, "You're the _secretary_. And I – the boss – want tea."

"Why?" Merlin said, "You never force Gwen to serve you like this."

Arthur had glared. He didn't force anyone to do anything, to start with. He wasn't some sort of prince, and Gwen and Merlin weren't exactly servants. And he didn't ask Gwen to make him tea because Gwen had a sixth sense for that sort of thing and would always appear at the right moment with a mug, or, at least, she had until she started being preoccupied with training Merlin. When Merlin did shuffle into his office to slam down a cup of tea and grumble some more and shuffle away, Arthur waited until he was gone and then poured the tea out the window.

It was most likely poisoned, after all.

If it had been only Arthur working at the agency, Merlin would have been fired after two, maybe three days. Arthur wouldn't have fired him right away, seeing as Gaius was such an old friend of the family. But he couldn't fire him, not now, because as far as Gwaine and Guinevere were concerned, Merlin could do no wrong. They loved him. It was like he was some long lost little brother or a particularly adorable talking puppy, the way they went on. It was constantly _Merlin this_ and _Merlin that_ and _oh, Arthur, you'll never guess what Merlin said. _

It was sickening. Really. And Arthur had had enough. If he wanted to get Merlin out of his hair, Arthur knew, he was going to have to get either Gwen or Gwaine on his side. Gwen was his first line of defense, Arthur figured. Mostly because her desk was closer to his office than Gwaine's office. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. Gwaine had a case or two that he was working, so it left Arthur alone and bored and annoyed.

He opened the door and peeked out. It looked like Gwen was alone. But that didn't mean anything. Merlin, for all of his clumsiness, was disturbingly quiet when the fancy struck and would show up at inopportune moments. For example, while Arthur was trying to get his mutinous staff back on his terms.

But then again, it was only about ten fifteen. Merlin wouldn't come tearing in for another twenty minutes or so, never mind he was already late. Arthur edged out his office, keeping his back to the wall so that no one (Merlin) could sneak up from behind him.

"Gwen," he said, leaning against the side of her desk.

"Arthur," she said in reply.

Arthur was about to start campaigning his cause, when Merlin came exploding in the door, fifteen minutes earlier than Arthur had been expecting him. He had a jar in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he said, panting slightly, and started saying something about supermarkets and helping an old lady with her purchases, and Arthur stopped listening, walking back to his office. He didn't get in before he saw Merlin hand the flowers over to Gwen, though.

A while later, Merlin came wandering in, and said, "Good morning. Gwen said to get the forms for filing."

Arthur held them up wordlessly. Merlin took them, but then stood there, awkwardly waiting for something. "What?" Arthur finally said.

"I, um," said Merlin, "I feel as if we've somehow managed to get off on the wrong foot."

"Do you?"

"Yes," said Merlin.

Arthur still didn't look up at him. "Don't you have work you should be doing?"

"Probably," said Merlin, "I'm curious, though – do you realize how you sound, sometimes?"

Now Arthur did look up at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're acting like an ass," said Merlin, "I've done nothing to get you to be angry with me, but –"

"Shouldn't you be off, I don't know, applying for university or something?" Arthur snapped.

"I did. Years ago. I graduated," Merlin said, and frowned. "How old do you think I am, Arthur?"

"Eighteen. Nineteen. Maybe."

"I'm twenty-four, you prat," Merlin shot right back. He looked over his shoulder. "Gwen, tell him I don't look like I'm nineteen."

"But you are nineteen," she said, pausing in making more coffee. At the gaping look Merlin shot in her direction, she amended, "I mean, um, I mean you – aren't you?"

Arthur leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.

"Oh, shut up," Merlin growled, fleeing back to the lobby. Arthur shook his head as Merlin called out, "Gwaine! Gwaine, how old do you think I am?" A few moments later and Merlin squawked out, "What do you mean, _seventeen_? I thought you people were supposed to be the best at detecting things, for God's sake!"

A moment later, Gwaine showed himself into Arthur's office, shutting the door behind him. "Did you know Merlin's in his twenties?" Gwaine said, throwing himself down in the chair across from Arthur's, normally reserved for clients. "I thought that he was a bloody teenager."

"Might as well be," Arthur said. He stared down at the paper on his desk, and then dropped his pen. "Look. Gwaine. About Merlin –"

"Isn't he great?" Gwaine said, cutting Arthur cleanly off. Arthur swallowed back the urge to accuse Gwaine of being a pre-pubescent girl. "And Gwen's been so much happier, sharing the work. I mean, she's still training him, of course, but I think she likes having someone to talk to when we're busy, you know? And –"

"So you think he should stay on, is what you're saying," Arthur said. Somewhere in the back of his mind, operation Get Rid Of Merlin went down in flames.

"Yes," said Gwaine, "Did I tell you he brought me pickled eggs this morning?"

"If that's some sort of awful euphemism," said Arthur, wrinkling his nose, "I do not want to know anything about it. I swear to God, Gwaine."

"Oh, Arthur, you know I only have eyes for the lady folk," said Gwaine, "I mean that he literally brought me pickled eggs this morning, because I mentioned yesterday that my dad used to make them before he died, and Merlin saw them at the store and thought of me. No one's ever brought me pickled eggs before."

"Touching," said Arthur.

Gwaine tilted his head, squinting slightly at Arthur. "I'm getting the feeling that you aren't overly fond of him."

"That's one way of putting it."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"Yes!" said Arthur, "And he's an idiot. He's completely useless! Did you taste that coffee that he made? It was bloody awful."

"You think all coffee is awful," said Gwaine, but neglecting to comment on the state of the coffee that Merlin had made. Arthur felt a sort of vindication stirring in his chest at that. Gwaine continued, "Look, Arthur. Give him a chance, yeah? He's a good person. A little clumsy, maybe, but –"

"A little clumsy? A little?" said Arthur, "Yesterday, he tripped and managed to send the printer out the window!"

"That was unfortunate," conceded Gwaine, "But you have to admit that it was funny. And he went out and got a new one."

"It landed on that poor child's wagon!"

"And the wagon survived. So did the child, come to think of it," said Gwaine, waving a hand. Then, he regarded Arthur closely again. "Is this because you're jealous?"

"Jealous?" Arthur said, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, jealous," said Gwaine, "Because Merlin spends all day with Guinevere and you're stuck in here working."

Actually, Arthur hadn't even thought about that. But now it was yet another thing to add to his list of why Merlin shouldn't work at Camelot anymore. He wasn't jealous, but rather Gwen was very busy, and didn't need to be saddled with an untrainable oaf for the foreseeable future. Even if he did bring her flowers.

Especially if he brought her flowers.

"Or are you maybe feeling left out since you didn't get any presents from Merlin?"

"Gwaine, you –" Arthur was cut off by the phone ringing out in the lobby.

"Gwen!" Merlin called out. "The phone is ringing!"

"Answer it then," she answered calmly. Gwaine leaned over and opened the door so that they could watch.

"Um," said Merlin. Both Arthur and Gwaine tilted to the side to watch. Merlin picked up the phone, and said, "Er, hello. I mean, this is Merlin. At Camelot Detection Agency."

Arthur groaned, and only barely managed not to smack his head down onto his desk in front of him. Gwaine chuckled, shaking his head.

"Gwen? She's right here. I'm new. What? Oh, one second," Merlin said, and called out, "Arthur! Phone!"

"Transfer it, Merlin," said Gwen.

"I don't know how!"

"Oh, give me that," Arthur said, striding out and snatching the phone out of Merlin's hand. "This is Arthur Pendragon."

"We can talk about whatever it was that answered your phone later," said Lance, "But right now we have another body. I'll send the location to your mobile."

"Why don't you ever just call my mobile?"

"Gwen gets bored," said Lance, "And that isn't the point right now. Body, remember?"

"On the way."

"Bring Gwaine, too," said Lance, "Any opinions on this would be very much appreciated."

"If I must," said Arthur, and hung up the phone. "Gwaine, grab your coat. We've got a case."

"Merlin, come on," Gwaine said, "You're coming with."

"I am?" he said.

"No," said Arthur.

"Yes, you are," said Gwaine shrugging on his coat. "Gwen can mind the shop while we're away. And feel free to ignore Arthur. I do it all the time and it's worked out so far."

"…Aren't I meant to be being trained?" Merlin asked, looking over at Gwen.

"Yes, you are, so stay here," said Arthur.

"Look, Merlin," said Gwaine, ignoring Arthur, "Can you answer a phone?"

Merlin nodded. "Yeah, I'm still working on the whole transferring calls thing though –"

"Can you make coffee?"

"Er, no, not –"

"Can you write down appointments in a book?"

"Well, yes, but –"

"You're trained," said Gwaine, grabbing Merlin's coat and actually forcing him into it. Arthur scoffed. "Now let's go and see Lance's crime scene."

"He isn't coming," Arthur said, "What's he going to do except for get in the way?"

"He has a point," said Merlin. "I'll just stay with Gwen. Really."

"Wet blankets, the both of you," Gwaine said, and walked over to Gwen and Merlin's desk, rummaging until he found a notepad and a pen. "Here, you can take notes," he said, forcing the items into Merlin's hands.

"Um," said Merlin.

"He won't take notes, because he isn't coming," said Arthur.

Gwaine arched an eyebrow at him.

Twenty minutes later, and Gwaine, Arthur, and Merlin were clamoring out of Arthur's car at the crime scene. The body was spread eagle in the parking lot, surrounded by milling police officers and bright yellow tape. Percival was waiting for them, waving at the uniformed officer to let them through. "Afternoon, boys," said Percival, and then gave Merlin a questioning glance.

"Merlin, Percival, Percival, Merlin," said Gwaine. From over by the body, Lance looked up. Gaius was standing next to him.

He walked over, offering his hand. "Merlin, I'm guessing?" he said, and when Merlin grinned and took his hand, said, "I'm Lance."

"Enough of the small talk," said Arthur, striding over to the dead man. "What do we have?"

"He's in his twenties," said Gaius, "I would put his time of death around eight hours ago…"

As the medical examiner continued to talk, Arthur glanced over at Merlin. He was regarding the body with almost disgust, his constant smile gone for once. "If you want to go, that's fine," said Gwaine, apparently finally picking up on why Arthur thought it would be a bad idea for their office assistant to come to a crime scene with them. "We'll meet you back at the car."

"Now you're alright with him not being here," Arthur muttered beneath his breath. If Gwaine heard him, he chose to ignore Arthur. Again.

Merlin, though, only cleared his throat and said, "No. No, I'm okay."

Arthur was ready to snort and make a crack about Merlin's weak, girlish stomach, but to his surprise Merlin did look okay. A bit paler than normal, maybe, but otherwise fine. Despite himself, he was impressed. The first time that he had seen a dead body he'd thrown up in a garbage can afterwards. Maybe Merlin was like that, holding it back until he was alone.

Then Arthur remembered Merlin getting teary because of that animal rights video that had popped up on Gwen's computer.

There was no way Merlin could deal with a dead body this easily. No. Way. And it was stupid and ridiculous and Arthur had no reason the even think it, but all he could come up with before was that Merlin had seen dead bodies before. Probably rather gruesome ones, seeing as how he was rolling with this one like it was no big deal.

Merlin glanced over at Arthur, then, and said, "Gaius is a mortician. I've seen worse."

"Sounds like you've got stories," said Gwaine, "Stories I would like to hear some time."

"There is a dead person right here," Arthur said, "Do try to show some respect and stop making light of it."

It got quiet as soon as the words left his mouth. Percival tipped his head to the side, regarding Arthur seriously. Lance's eyebrows were drawn together as he frowned. Gwaine looked plain confused. Even Gaius spared him a glance, as if worried for his health. The only one who didn't look concerned for Arthur's state of mind was Merlin, who looked as happily oblivious as ever, even though there was a dead body right over there.

"Isn't that supposed to be Lance's line?" Gwaine asked. "Blah, blah, blah, this is a serious matter, blah, blah, blah."

"Sorry," Merlin said. He shifted slightly, and then waved his little notebook. "I'll just, um. I'll just observe, shall I?"

"Do that," Arthur said. He ignored Lancelot's questioning glance to Gwaine, and Gwaine's answering shrug and eye roll. No doubt they'd gossip like mad as soon as Arthur's back was turned. Arthur, meanwhile, squatted down next to the body. "The marks look the same as before," he said.

"Except there's less of them," Gaius added in, "But he still was killed by suffocation. And, look, this symbol here is only half of the way finished. My theory is that he died before the other in whatever sort of…process was happening."

"You're the medical expert," said Lance as he sat on his heels next to Arthur. "Gaius, have you made any headway in what the runes mean?"

"Some," he said, "Merlin's been helping me, actually. Some of the print is too small for my old eyes."

"And?"

"We've only found one of them, the one on the center of his chest. It means 'loyalty'," said Merlin. Arthur shot a look up at him, and he wilted slightly, hiding behind his notebook.

"Magic?"

"I assume as much," said Gaius. "We're still working on the others."

"Could it be a turf thing?" Gwaine asked, "The Dragonlords and the Druids, they used to clash –"

"But the Dragonlords don't exist anymore, young man," Gaius said, "And the Druids, while vandals and activists, very rarely attack anyone."

"But the point remains," said Gwaine, "Sorcerers attacking sorcerers."

"We don't know this man was a sorcerer. We don't know that he was killed by a sorcerer," Arthur said. What was with the conclusions, today, he wondered. Personally he blamed Merlin.

"Do we need to start worrying about a serial killer?" Percival asked.

"Let's not jump to any conclusions," Lance said, "People will only get jumpy."

"However," added Gwaine, "I would like to toss my hat into the 'serial killer' ring."

"Remember what Lance said about jumping to conclusions?" Arthur said. "Let's hold up for a little. If he ends up having anything in common with the first victim, then we'll talk about it. You're all assuming he's a sorcerer as well. We don't _know_ that."

"Actually, we do," said Merlin, and then, remembering that he was supposed to be silent, snapped his mouth closed.

Arthur sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "And how do we know that, Merlin?"

"I thought I wasn't supposed to be talking."

"_Merlin_."

"He's had his powers capped," said Merlin. "Look at his right wrist, there. And at his elbow."

Lance, Gwaine, Percival, and Arthur all leaned forward. Even Gaius frowned, looking forward. Sure enough, there was a small, thin scar about the width of Arthur's thumb on the man's wrist and another on the crook of his elbow. "There'd have to be the iron yet, though," said Percival, "It looks the right size for a cap, but those things are permanent."

"He must have figured out a way to have it removed," said Merlin.

"That's impossible," said Arthur, "Those things are driven right into the bone."

"Where there's a will, there's a way," said Gaius, still frowning. Arthur felt his stomach roll. Talking about capping didn't used to make him so anxious, not since that last case on the force. Capping was an extreme solution, only supposed to be used as an absolutely last case scenario. Unfortuneately, it was used more often than anyone cared to admit, mostly on sorcerers who used their magic to actively harm others, whether the sorcerer meant to or not.

"So, basically, he did practice magic," said Lance, jolting Arthur out of his reverie.

"I completely missed that," said Gwaine, "Good on you, Merlin. I knew bringing you was a good idea."

As the other three continued to gape at the scars, Arthur glanced up at Merlin and Gaius. Gaius's eyebrow was high as ever, and Merlin was steadfastly not meeting his godfather's eyes, rubbing at his right wrist with his left hand. Arthur hummed, and tucked that away to consider later. All it meant for now was that he had more proof that something was wrong about Merlin.

"Do you have any insights here, Arthur?" Lance asked. Arthur stood, stretching, and ran his hand through his hair.

"No," he said, "No, Gwaine?"

"Nope," said the other PI, standing as well, "Nothing that can top Merlin's find, anyway."

Later that night, Arthur thought that he was the last one at the offices. He put on his coat again, pushing the photos of the crime scene into a folder to take home with him. But as he walked down the stairs, he heard someone talking. Peering around the corner, he found Merlin talking on his cellphone, hugging himself slightly against the chill of the evening.

"Yeah, it's going well, I guess," Merlin was saying, "Gwen – she's the secretary, she's really nice. And Gwaine is too. You'd get along well with Gwaine." There were a few beats of quiet as whoever was on the other side of the conversation said something. "God, Will, no, I'm not going to _seduce_ the secretary. And – yeah, there is a third one. But he's a clotpole, so – yes, I know, but it's what applies….no, I haven't done anything. He just doesn't like me – no. No, of course it isn't because of…because I haven't told him, that's why. It took me years just to tell you, and you don't think I'm an idiot...Will, be serious…I have a better question, what doesn't he do? He's a complete dollop head."

There was another beat of quiet.

"In two words? Arthur Pendragon, that's what a dollop head is."

So, Merlin didn't much care for Arthur, either. It made a stab of validation shoot through him, along with a sort of uncertainty. He didn't like Merlin, no big deal. Arthur didn't like a lot of people. But where did Merlin, who brought Gwaine food and Gwen flowers and made Percival giggle like a schoolgirl, get off on not liking Arthur?

"I don't know. I don't know, maybe Kilgarrah was wrong," Merlin was saying, "There must be more than one, 'cause this one's insufferable. I…oh. Oh, okay. Have fun….I'll talk to you later. Are you still planning on coming next weekend?...Good. See you then. Bye, Will."

Arthur heard the sound of Merlin flipping his phone shut, and then a heavy sigh. He walked around the corner, crossed his arms, and said, "Dollop head?"

Merlin jumped, flailing slightly as he shot to his feet and whirled around to face Arthur. He looked vaguely panicked – mouth hanging open and eyes gone wide – to find Arthur standing there. "Oh. Er. I. How long have you been standing there?"

Arthur tilted his head to the side, and said nothing. Merlin, eyes twitching to the side, fidgeted and squared his jaw. Arthur came to a decision, then. He'd seen more than enough suspects trying to cover up something doing exactly what Merlin was doing now, and he wasn't going to let it slide. "You're up to something," Arthur said, pointing at Merlin's face, "You've fooled the others, and Gaius, apparently, but you don't fool me."

"Fool you?" Merlin said, going a bit cross-eyed as he tracked Arthur's finger. "I'm not trying to fool anyone. I was only –"

"You are, though. With your pickled eggs and your flowers," said Arthur, "And talking to your friend on the phone now. You've got a look about you – shifty. Like you've got something to hide."

"I am an open book," said Merlin, jerking his gaze from Arthur's fingers to meet Arthur's eyes. He held the gaze for a few more moments and then broke away. "Is there anything else I can do for you today? Or can I leave?"

Arthur glared for a moment longer, and then waved his hand, "Go on, then."

And Merlin all but ran from the building.

Right, Arthur thought, watching him go. Because that wasn't suspicious at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Noir  
>Author: Ultra-Geek<br>Rating: T  
>Disclaimer: I own nothing.<br>Summary: AU. PI Arthur Pendragon is the best in the business – he has never found a case he couldn't solve. But with someone attacking sorcerers and a new assistant who's keeping too many secrets, he may just have bitten off more than he can chew this time.  
>AN – Once again, thanks for all of the lovely reviews and I'm sorry if I missed you while replying! I know this is moving a wee bit slow, but don't worry - there is a plan.<p>

Also, sorry for the delay on this. A wild essay appeared. But I got le A on it, so everything's good. Next update will be up by next Monday.

ON WITH THE FIC.

* * *

><p>Merlin was late.<p>

Again.

Arthur wished that he could say that he was surprised. So when Merlin did come running in, Arthur didn't bother turning from the cork board that he'd set up.

Their small complex had three offices, a bathroom, and the small lobby area. They always told Lance the third, empty office was waiting and pining for him, but in reality Arthur would have been sad to lose it. He and Gwaine used it as a sort of brainstorming room, rolling in a wheeled corkboard to put notes and photos up on. At the moment, Arthur was pinning up pictures from the past two crime scenes.

"I was on time today, I swear, but I thought I'd bring in coffee for you and Arthur to say thanks for putting up with me," Merlin was saying to Gwaine, "And then there was a long line, and – I'm sorry that I'm late, but I brought coffee."

Merlin, it turned out, while terrible at making coffee, was spectacularly good at guessing people's coffee preferences. He brought Gwaine his frilly, caramel and whipped cream monstrosity that was made of sugar and, as Gwaine claimed, unicorn tears. Arthur thought that no grown man in his right mind should ever be seen drinking. Then again, _Gwaine_. Merlin also, it seemed, was also able to know when people didn't even drink coffee.

So when Arthur stuck his nose up in the air and declared that he only drank tea, Merlin gave him an odd look, said, "I know," and plunked the cup down in front of Arthur before wandering over to Gwaine's office and saying something that sent the other man guffawing in laughter.

Arthur popped the cover off of the cup and sniffed it carefully. This time, he didn't pour the tea out the window, even if he didn't drink it. He thought that it showed great strength of character.

And great strength of character he was going to need. Today was Merlin's first day alone in the office. Without Gwen. As far as Arthur was concerned, they were all doomed.

Gwaine walked into the spare office brainstorming room. He nodded at Arthur's untouched cup of tea. "Why haven't you drunk that?"

"I don't want it."

"Fine," said Gwaine, "Then why are you so mean to Merlin?"

"I am not mean to Merlin."

"You are!" Gwaine said, "Would it kill you to be nice, even if only for once?"

"Yes."

"Touché."

Someone cleared their throat from behind them. Gwaine and Arthur both turned to find Lance loitering in the doorway, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Merlin!" Arthur barked.

Merlin leaned out from his desk to peer around Lance.

"You're supposed to tell us when people are here!"

"Lance said not to."

"Lance doesn't employ you."

"_Anyway_," Gwaine cut in, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Percival and I were in the neighborhood, thought we'd stop by," said Lancelot. "Anything new?"

"No," said Arthur, "We were just about to get started. You?"

"We still have nothing on the first body, Aglain," said Lance, "Have you had any luck?"

"Unfortunately, no," said Arthur. Still all any of them knew about the first victim was his name, his membership with the Druids, and the cause of his death. He had no place of residence that they could find, which wasn't uncommon among the Druids. They were nomadic in nature, moving from place to place mostly in groups. Arthur and Gwaine had been unable to establish any informers among their ranks, though not for any lack of trying. "What about the second one?"

Lance crossed his arms, and said, "We're still –"

"His name is Aulfric," said Percival, walking in, mobile in hand. "Surname Jones. Only family is a daughter named Sophia who lives over on the other side of town. He was reported missing a little less than a week ago."

"I don't suppose you fancy going and talking to her?" said Gwaine.

Lancelot pulled out a coin from his pocket. "Flip for it. You call it."

He flipped the coin, and Arthur called out, "Heads," as it spun through the air.

It wasn't heads.

"I call not me," said Gwaine, giving Arthur a sideways look.

"Fine," said Arthur.

Percival and Lance stayed for a little longer, the four of them bouncing ideas off of each other while Merlin, out in the lobby, alternately stared forlornly at the telephone and worked on 'subtly' scooting his chair closer so that he could hear what they were saying.

"We need more about Aglain," said Lancelot, "

"Druids?" Merlin said, giving up all pretenses and walking over. "Did you ask Gaius?"

Arthur sighed through his nose, and said, "Why would we ask Gaius?"

"Gaius knows everyone, doesn't he?" Merlin said, "And he used to be a fairly big deal with sorcerers, if what my mother says is anything to go by. And only two days ago, he had me run some bandages over to his place, because he was out, and helping out someone who ended up having a tattoo like the Druids have."

"I tried already, actually," said Percival, "He said it wasn't his place to be bothering them."

"I could talk to him," Merlin offered. "Maybe –"

"Don't you have a desk to be disorganizing?" Arthur snapped.

Merlin rolled his eyes and slouched away, sitting down in his chair with a huff. Arthur turned back to the board, but it was suspiciously quiet. He looked at the other three detectives, who were all staring at him, and said, "What?"

"I told you he had a problem with Merlin," said Gwaine, looking over at Lance and Percival, "You two didn't believe me."

"Can we focus, please?" Arthur said, "Thank you."

Lance and Percival stayed for a short while longer, leaving about half of an hour after they'd come. Later, Arthur reached over and pulled his coat off of the coatrack, making for the door.

"You heading out to talk to the daughter?" Gwaine asked.

"Yes," answered Arthur, shrugging on his coat.

"You should take Merlin with you," Gwaine said, "Had him tag along with me to go tell some people that it was their brother who'd been stealing from them."

"You have to stop taking the office assistant out of the office, Gwaine," Arthur said, "His job is not to assist in the field, but, oh, I don't know, maybe in the actual office."

"The world is my office," said Gwaine, "And I still think that you should take Merlin with you. These people I were talking to, normally I'd be worried about them screaming in my face for a while, like it was my fault it was the brother. But after two minutes with Merlin and they were saying _thank you_. It was amazing."

"I'm not bringing Merlin," said Arthur, "Who will answer the phone?"

"I will," said Gwaine, "I've wrapped up my other cases. I can hold down the base."

"I am _not_," Arthur growled, "Bringing Merlin."

* * *

><p>Really, Arthur didn't know how he got into these sorts of situations. Honestly. This was getting ridiculous. No, scratch that, this was ridiculous and out of hand, and he should've put a stop to it right at the beginning before Gwaine and Gwen had gotten so damn attached, because now it was too late and he was probably going to have to spend the rest of his life dealing with this sort of silly and stupid thing.<p>

"Where are we going, again?" Merlin said, as they pulled up to the dingy building.

"Sophia Jones," said Arthur through his teeth. "Her father was Lance's body from yesterday."

"Oh," said Merlin, and then, after a moment, "Why am I here?"

"Hell if I know," Arthur growled, getting out of the car. Merlin hesitated a moment, and then followed him out of the car. "Here is how this is going to go. I'm going to do all of the talking, you aren't going to say anything. You're not going to obtrusive, you're not going to do anything but sit and listen."

"Should I take notes?" Merlin asked, halfheartedly pulling the small notebook from the day before out of his pocket, "Otherwise it's a bit weird that I'm here."

"Whatever. Just don't make a scene, that's all that I ask," said Arthur. He didn't bother to mention that it was 'a bit weird' that Merlin was there anyway, because he felt like it didn't need to be said, not really. Arthur strode up to the door of the building, and scanned the buttons for the one he was looking for.

A woman's voice, small and breathy, answered, "Yes?"

"My name is Arthur Pendragon, I'm working with the police on your father's case," Arthur said, "May I come up?"

There was a moment of hesitation, and then, "Yes."

The door buzzed open. Arthur pulled it open and walked in, Merlin on his heels. He regretted not telling the younger man to wait in the car. Then again, if Gwen or Gwaine ever got wind of it, they'd probably start yelling at Arthur about it and saying things like _don't you know that Merlin could suffocate in there_ like Merlin wasn't a fully grown person who knew how to operate a car window.

Then again, Arthur thought, rapping on Sophia Jones' door maybe that was a legitimate concern. It was Merlin, after all.

The door creaked open. "Miss Jones?" Arthur asked. She nodded, opening the door wider. Sophia was around Arthur's age, with a round face and long, light brown hair. "I'm Arthur Pendragon, this is my...assistant."

She stood to the side so they could walk in. When Merlin walked past her, she startled slightly, narrowing her eyes at him. "What did you say your name was?" she asked.

"Er," said Merlin, "Merlin. Merlin Emrys."

She didn't move for several moments, and then, closing the door behind them, said, "You said you had questions about my father."

"Just a few," said Arthur, nodding at Merlin. He pulled out his notebook and shrugged slightly. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Five days ago," she said.

"But he was only reported missing three days ago."

"He was going to call me Thursday night," she said, "But then he didn't."

"Did he say anything about any plans, any worries or concerns the last time you spoke with him?"

"The last I heard from him he was meeting someone for lunch about a job," said Sophia, "Work wasn't easy for him to find, you know."

"Do you know who?"

"A man named Valiant," she said, "I don't know if that was his first name or his last name."

"Your father was on the registry," said Arthur, "You are as well. Do you actively practice magic, Miss Jones?"

She frowned, her delicate eyebrows drawing together. "Is this a joke, Mr. Pendragon?"

"No," said Arthur, cocking his head slightly, "I only ask because –"

"Because of your grotesque curiosity, I imagine," she said, coldly, "Do you want to see it?"

"What do you –"

She rolled up her right sleeve. The gleaming metal of the cap reflected the light at them, a thin piece of iron that ran from her wrist to her elbow, disappearing beneath her skin at both ends. "I was not as fortunate as my father," she said, and even though she was speaking to Arthur, she was looking directly at Merlin. "He was able to find someone to remove his shortly after it was put on, though the process nearly killed him. They wouldn't take mine off. They said I was too young to survive the process. By the time I was old enough they'd moved on. Is there anything else, or is it time for you to be leaving?"

"Thank you for your time," Arthur said, giving Merlin a look and standing. Merlin did the same. "If there's anything else you think may be important, don't hesitate to call."

She didn't say anything, and simply stared at them. They showed themselves out.

"It doesn't seem right, does it?" Merlin said, once they were back in Arthur's car.

"What doesn't?" Arthur said.

"Capping," said Merlin.

"Anyone who's been capped has done something that is against the law," said Arthur, the words stale and overused as they left his mouth, "If they won't use their magic for good, then they don't deserve to have it. Like with weapons."

"I still don't think it is right," Merlin muttered. He crossed his arms and slumped low in his seat, staring aimlessly out of the window. Arthur had thought that silence from Merlin would be a blessing. Instead, he found that it grated on his nerves and made him more annoyed than when the idiot was talking. He pulled away from the curb and drove down the road.

Arthur was no fan of the practice of capping. He never had been. Like Merlin seemed to think, it was something that had always felt fundamentally wrong to him. Twenty years ago, when it was first developed, Uther had been one of the leading voices supporting it. Most days, Arthur had convinced himself that it was only residual rebellion from his teenage days that gave him the distaste for it.

Then came that last case on the force. Freya Nivian's case.

"I'm not saying that it is," said Arthur, pushing the thought away. "But it's how things are, so that's all there is to it."

He regretted saying anything as Merlin perked up and looked at him curiously. "You think it's wrong too, then."

"I didn't say that," Arthur said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Then you think that it's right."

"No."

"Then what –"

"I think that it's necessary," Arthur snapped, "But like anything else, it isn't a perfect solution."

Merlin quieted again, but it wasn't the sullen quiet of before. He kept sending twitching, nervous glances in Arthur's direction. Arthur, for his part, mentally kicked himself for saying anything at all.

He hadn't realized how late it was until the two of them got back to the offices to find the windows closed and shut up. That meant – surprise, surprise – that Gwaine had slunk off earlier than he was supposed to, seeing as he had been "holding down the base". Typical. Arthur wished that he could say he was surprised.

"Arthur Pendragon?" she called. She had long dark hair and a pale face, and Arthur was struck with familiarity, but couldn't place her face.

"That's me," he said, cautiously. "What can I help you with?"

Her eyes twitched to Merlin, who was hovering behind Arthur uncertainly. Arthur, meanwhile, his mouth going a little dry, noticed the way that the woman had her hand in her pocket, the strange lump of something there.

"Merlin, go upstairs," said Arthur.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asked, "I could –"

"Go inside. Now," said Arthur. Merlin did, giving the woman a wide berth as he walked around her. He cast a hard, lingering glance at her over his shoulder, and then the door shut behind him. Arthur looked at the woman for a long moment, and then said, "Why did you need to speak with me, and why do you feel the need to keep a gun in your pocket?"

She pulled out the weapon, pointing it at Arthur. "Pity you sent your friend upstairs," she said, "I'll have to go and take care of him after, won't I?"

Arthur heard the gun fire. The gun that was pointed right at him. He was going to die. He was going to die, shot at point blank range, and the last thing that he was ever going to hear was that sound of a gun exploding and the last thing he was going to see was this stupid street and no one would find him until morning and then he'd be the next body on Lance's caseload and –

And he was suddenly flat on the ground. Someone was on the ground next to him. Arthur didn't question how this had happened, pulled out his own weapon, and shot at the woman. She let out a small shriek and fled.

He looked over to the mysterious person who had pushed him out of the way.

Merlin blinked back at him.

"What are you doing here, Merlin?" Arthur growled.

He sat up. Merlin lolled on the ground for a while longer and then followed suit, leaning against the wall. "Saving your life, apparently," he said, sounding shaky and a little bit giddy.

"I told you to go inside!"

"Good thing I didn't listen, isn't it?" Merlin snapped back, "I only stopped you from getting shot in the face. A thank you wouldn't be too far out of line, you know. Also, Gwaine's not lying dead in his own blood 'cause she went after him first. Just so you know."

Arthur, in a rare moment, bit back the angry response that was rising in his throat, and instead said, "Thank you."

"What was that all about?" Merlin said, waving his hand a little spastically at the end of the ally where the shooter had disappeared.

"I don't know," said Arthur, honestly. At least she hadn't tried to blow him up, he thought. He would have never heard the end of it. "I'll find out, eventually."

"That's very…mellow of you," said Merlin, "Seeing as she tried to shoot you and all."

"Part of my job, unfortunately," said Arthur.

They sat on the asphalt for a moment longer. Then, Merlin flopped his head over to look at Arthur. "Want to go and get a drink?" he asked.

Arthur thought about how not too long ago he was considering ways to never see Merlin again. He thought about how someone had tried to kill him, and how he should probably call Lance or someone and report it. He thought about all the work he had to get done in the morning, and he thought about his plans for a relaxing evening watching television and going over the last handful of crime scenes. He thought about how he should just say no and leave.

"Sure," he said instead, "Alcohol sounds good right about now."


End file.
